


Selfish Prayers (Get Enough)

by SilverBird13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Brick!Javert the Sex Fiend, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He began to nudge his erection against  the other man’s hip, the candlelight giving his eyes an inhuman shine; the glow of a predator’s (and oh, how Valjean would have loved to be devoured, just not right now...). </p><p>Or, Valjean's not as young as he used to be and Javert decides to use some ingenuity...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfish Prayers (Get Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a headcanon on Tumblr about Javert being VERY into sex once experiencing it and Valjean not quite being able to keep up...

Valjean had just closed his eyes and begun to fade into sleep when he felt a gentle pressure upon his chest, clever fingers beginning a favorite game.  
  
 _Not again_ , he thought as the hand trailed lower, toying with the hair just below his navel.     
  
“Javert, what are you doing?”  
  
The owner of the offending hand propped himself up on an elbow and cocked an eyebrow.  “Praying the rosary.  What do you think I’m doing, Valjean?” he asked, voice thick with sarcasm.  “Now, lie back or I’ll get out that cravat again.”  
  
Valjean groaned in frustration, closing his eyes.  God knew, he loved Javert, but he was hardly a young man, his years finally catching up with him bodily now that there was no need to run.  
  
Javert, on the other hand...  
  
Both of them had spent their lives in celibacy until several months after the barricades, when wine and weeks of cautious kisses had finally won over inhibition.  Valjean, of course, had enjoyed himself immensely, the slick feel of another’s skin against his and the filthy whispers of his lover sending him to a climax far more intense than any of those occasional rubbings of his own hand had wrought.    
  
While Valjean had been content to spend the days and nights following as usual (save for a few deep kisses and perhaps that one time with the offending cravat...)  Javert, however, had taken to coupling like a fish to water, barely taking a quarter hour to recover before jumping upon Valjean again and grinding against him like a needy dog until the man really had no choice but to cooperate.  
  
It should come as no surprise, Valjean knew.  The man had never known closeness with another in any form until recently, and thus he was starved for this affection, which-   
  
“Valjean!” Javert interjected from halfway across the room, startling him out of his thoughts.  ”For God’s sake, what are you doing?  Damn me, where did I put the thing?”  
  
“Javert...”  Valjean started weakly, a flush creeping onto his face as he noticed that Javert had relit the candles, presenting a quite vivid view of the former inspector’s backside as he searched upon the floor for the old piece of cloth.  Tired as he was, Valjean studied his lover’s body, smiling as he traced the lean, rounded muscle presented shamelessly to him.  
  
“There!”  Javert exclaimed, shimmying out (much to Valjean’s enjoyment) from halfway under the padded chair in the corner.  He gave a predatory smirk to the man in bed before slinking back to him and straddling a rather discomforted Valjean with his long legs.

“...Javert” Valjean tried again, even as Javert bound his hands loosely in front of him and stopped to kiss at his wrists, “Javert, I...please...”  
  
At that, Javert let himself fall fully upon his lover, effectively trapping Valjean’s hands and bringing their noses not a centimeter apart.  He began to nudge his erection against the other man’s hip, the candlelight giving his eyes an inhuman shine; the glow of a predator’s (and oh, how Valjean would have loved to be devoured, _just not right now_...).   
  
“Well, now, you ask so prettily...” he growled, sending a shudder through the man beneath him, "Say it again and I’ll tell you exactly what I plan for you, Valjean.”  
  
The man in question tilted his head up, lips just brushing his lover’s as he spoke.  “Javert, I-I cannot,” he breathed, guilt washing over his face.  
  
Javert, as was to be expected, drew back to sit up upon Valjean’s pelvis, studying his lover.  “Go on,” he stated, arms crossed and expression inscrutable.  
  
Valjean turned his head and addressed a nearby pillow.  “Javert, you know I love you, desire you-”  
  
“‘Want you to suck my cock against the kitchen table until I scream?’” Javert added, still stony-faced.  
  
“W-well, yes,” Valjean stammered.  _Perhaps in the morning, if he wasn’t too sore_...”But I’m no longer a young man, Javert.  Please, know that I’d never want anyone but you, but at my age, it’s simply impossible for me to match your hunger!”  
  
Javert remained motionless atop him for a moment, seemingly considering Valjean’s plea as the other man fairly quaked with nerves, the cravat suddenly unbearably tight.  _If he was to leave for the company of another..._  
  
Finally, Javert’s mouth turned upwards into it’s familiar smirk and he slowly lowered himself fully back upon the other man into his former position.  
  
“Well then, I understand completely, Monsieur,” he breathed against Valjean’s temple.  “But a lack of control over one’s body must be punished.”  
  
Valjean felt a shot of pain in the pit of his stomach.  _I cannot lose him._   His expression must have shown it, for Javert quickly began to elaborate, though in a way Valjean wasn’t quite expecting.  
  
Javert rolled over onto the bed, cock jutting half-hard out in front of him.  “Sit up, Valjean.  No, the cravat stays on.  Since you seem to be unable to provide release to me, I’ll simply do it myself.”  
  
Valjean’s sincere offers of his own hand to Javert quickly disappeared as he watched the other man drag a hand down his own firm belly, massaging himself gently as he took his own cock in hand, eyes locked to Valjean’s.  He began to stroke himself as Valjean knew he liked, firmly and with attention to his underside.  The entire visual, with Javert leaning back and lit by candlelight, hair mussed around his face, moaning softly, and with a hand rubbing at his own tip and balls, was beyond obscene.    
  
Valjean had never been more enthralled in his life.  
  
Seeing the captivation of his audience, Javert began to grow bolder, his other hand moving to his mouth, where he wetted just the end of one finger before bringing it to rub at a nipple.    
  
“Jean,” he moaned softly, moving the hand back again to cup himself, “Jean.”     
  
Valjean himself whimpered at that.  Though he was not hard, a heat had begun to spread in his own belly (not to mention his face), and he rubbed against the silk preventing him from touching the other man.   
  
“Hmm,” Javert muttered as he sped up his hand, flesh slick with precome, “I’m sure you wish this was your hand, wet and hot and making me cry out.”  
  
“God, yes,” Valjean croaked out, “Dear God, Javert, let me touch you.”  
  
“Well,”  Javert gasped out, “Since it really isn’t your fault...”  
  
Valjean practically lunged at him, hands still bound.  He gasped at the feel of Javert’s cock finally in his grasp, though the cravat and slickness of it caused for a difficulty in keeping it in his hands.  
  
“V-Valjean,”  Javert gasped out not a second after Valjean had finally gripped him fully.  He felt Javert spend over his hands and the cravat, smiling as he watched the other man’s expression slide from ecstasy into satiety.   
  
“Well then,” Javert breathed out, eyes closed.  “Perhaps this new arrangement could work well, indeed.”  
  



End file.
